Moribundum Fatum
by Ari Powwel
Summary: [In-progress] There is life and there is death, nothing inbetween. But now, he'll learn that things aren't always what they seem. There -is- an inbetween, and there are complications you'd never dream of . . .
1. intervigilium

**Opening Statements:** Any of you who know me are going to question my sanity after reading this. However, I'll tell you right now, _yes_, I realise what I did. I am very pleased with it, too. Mweh.  
**Thanks much** to Megu-chan for the help with the name of this fic; I wouldn't have gotten it right without you!  
**I do not own** Kingdom Hearts. Bah. End of that.

* * *

**1** — .i.n.t.e.r.v.i.g.i.l.i.u.m. — **1**

It was a dark day the streets ran red.

One boy in the midst of the red, a heap of clothing, and skin, and bones, and all the other things that makes up a human.

Blood pooled around the boy; had there been anyone around to notice his trouble, they would have been hard-pressed to find a spot where it didn't completely cover their feet, staining the skin crimson.

One fate that would not let the boy die, not even with sobbing pleas for death, for peace at last in this frantic, chaotic universe.

Two sides of the mirror, light and dark, watched. The light sobbed and the dark cackled, for his journey would be made that much harder.

It was at this moment that Riku died.

.f.a.l.l.

Squeals from the darkness were all that could be heard. 'He died, didn't he?!' cackled one voice, decidedly female, and very old. 'The Wielder died!'

'Perhaps . . .' hissed a second voice, that of a very slippery man. His voice wound about the room slowly, darkly; if there had been life there to hear the voice, perhaps they would have thought of a snake, coiling in upon itself, preparing to strike. 'Of course, those of the _Light_—' and here he spat the word, as though it pained him to say it— 'have their uses for him, too, do they not?'

'Died, the boy did,' giggled a third voice. This voice was quite unlike the others, in that the speaker seemed to have no sanity left in them. It was hard to distinguish whether the speaker was a boy or girl, young or old. Indeed, the others didn't even try to tell anymore, only calling it a 'she' because of the pitch of her voice. 'He died in his lovely pool of blood—where did the blood come from? Do humans even _have_ that much blood? It looked to be rather a lot of blood, I thought—Do you imagine that the blood was warm? Could he feel it trickling over his cheek slowly as his heart pounded, feel it dripping slowly from lip to lip as he lost all feeling? I wonder if he could _taste_ the blood. What do you think; could he taste the blood? I think he could taste the blood, taste it trickling into his mouth from the lips and gathering into a little pool in his right cheek, until it overflowed and started down his throat. And then—'

'Ugh, is there no _way_ to shut her up?' asked yet another voice. This voice was almost quiet, tight, with an almost snobbish air. When there was no answer (save the insane one's babbling), she sighed. 'I suppose not.'

'Fine, then,' pouted the third voice. 'See if you ever hear _me_ anymore. I'll just sit over here in my corner.'

Silence, blessed silence, covered the room. For about two seconds.

'Ow!' cried the final woman. 'Dark damn you if you're playing with those damned dolls again.'

A giggle. 'Maaaaaaaybe.' The third perked up. 'Oooh, do you think that when he comes down here, the boy will play with my dolls? Shall I start making him a doll now?' Her voice drifted off into a sort of singsong as she continued, 'I'll need more cloth, won't I? Of course. Shari needs more cloth for my dear dolls, dear dolls Shari and Jannon and This one and That one and blood staining clothès and singing and humming and they'll all love their new playmate, won't they Shari? Of course they will, Jannon. You think they _won't_? They can't not! Because they are mine and they're mine and I'll keep them forever and pooooooooke!'

'OW! Damn you!'

'**Silence.'**

As demanded, not a sound was heard. All present remembered what had happened the last time someone had disobeyed the Master.

'**It is true, what you have heard. The boy is indeed dead.'** A slight pause, and the Master continued. **'However, he is not to remain ours. At least, not yet. You have all, of course, heard of the Intervigiliumance? If so, very well. If not, get someone to explain it to you. Alert the others that they will soon be awakened, awakened to the surface. To stop the Intervigiliumance. It is vital to our plans that he is not awakened. Take the body. Bring him here. You will receive instructions upon that time.'**

To each present, there was a murmured word of advice. **'I leave to you the care of the boy. I know you will accommodate him well.' **A cold laugh.

'**To you, I leave the chore of fetching the boy. And let no-one see you and live. I don't want the others to have a chance to touch him, understand? Good.'** A long, yellowed fingernail, drifting slowly down one's back, raising goosebumps immediately.

'**Your chore, my dear, is to frighten away the boy's 'friends.' It just won't do to have them down here, barging into our work, would it? Of course not.'** Two yellowed eyes looked into blackened ones, making the latter shiver in fear.

'**Ah, finally, my child. And how are your dolls?'**

'Very well, thank you! Shari thanks you and Jannon and this one and that and we bow to our Master.'

'**Very good. I believe you already know of your task, don't you? You will be in charge of his course. You know what to do, my child. You've the best ideas.'** The Master seemed to go off into his own train of thought. **'Who would have thought one so innocent would be so very cruel and violent?'**

'Because I had Master with me to teach me! Master, where is our blood? Shari wants her blood!'

**'And so Shari shall have her blood. As will you, Jannon, as well as this one and that one and any you so desire.'**

'Master! Jannon needs the blood of the boy, the boy's blood; it was such a lovely garnet colour, and it looked so pretty, splattered all over his pale hair and body, trickling down slightly and slowly and the puddle was so deep! Master, do humans really have that much blood? Do they? Do they? Do they? Do humans have so much blood that they can lay in baths of it with it and drown themselves in it? But humans are too _tiny_ to have that much blood! That one doesn't understand, this one _never_ understood humans, Master! And we need the blood so that Shari and Jannon and I and this one and that one and anyone else can create his doll! Master, can we have the blood? Please? Can Shari have her blood?'

**'Soon, child. Soon. However, you must wait until the body has been moved, lest the others detect its presence. Soon, child, you will be in possession of that blood which you long for.'**

.f.l.o.a.t.

Though the others were not aware of it, those they did not want to notice the body between them already had. In the realm of light, three figures stood, familiar to all around them. One of the figures was refusing to look into the glass, refusing to see the figure lying in blood below. This figure was sobbing, clinging to another, her face buried in his shirt. 'He can't be dead,' she cried. 'He just can't be!'

The russet-haired boy, a young man by the name of Sora, patted his friend rather awkwardly on the back. 'No, he can't be,' he agreed, trying to cheer her up.

The third figure, the mouse king, was crouching over the glass, passing his hands over it and murmuring under his breath. Quite suddenly, he stood up completely straight, looking over at Kairi and Sora. 'He's not. Not dead.'

Sora heard Kairi gasp as she quickly unattached herself from him and dashed over to the mirror. 'What do you mean? He looks dead . . .' She looked about ready to burst into tears again, so Sora moved closer, looking into the glass.

He certainly _looked_ dead. There was no sign of movement; his face was completely pale, finally peaceful. As hard as Sora looked, he could not see a sign of life in his friend's body.

The king looked rather sheepish. 'Well, I suppose I can't term him alive. But he's not dead. Fate will not let him die.'

'What do you mean?' asked Kairi.

The king sighed. 'I can't really tell ya much, but none of ya are gonna die just yet. You three still have things to accomplish! And because of this, fate's not gonna let Riku die until you've done 'em.' He sighed. 'However, now that he's died in the world of Unknown, we're gonna have to fight for him to come back to us.'

'What do you mean?' asked Sora, understandably suspicious.

Mickey looked him straight in the eye. 'I can't tell you everything, Sora. But trust me on this one, okay? You two have _got_ to find Riku and get him back here. If the darkness gets to him first, they've got the right to pull Intervigiliumance on him. And that's worse than death.

'So you must find him first.'

.r.e.m.a.i.n.s.

It was raining again, he noted, smirking. The child would be so upset. Her precious blood, being washed away into the cobblestones of the street.

Just a dark-damned pity, wasn't it?

He snorted, a harsh sound in the near-silence. Rain pattered into the streets, but there was something else; something he hadn't heard in awhile—footsteps.

He whirled, catching sight of a girl and a boy, looking around warily. He smirked again, ducking quickly into the shadows as they got nearer.

'Oh, Sora, where is he?' asked the girl, obviously upset. It didn't take much thought to figure out what about, and he cursed silently. It looked as though the light's fools had arrived sooner than anticipated. The Master wouldn't be pleased; not at all. He didn't want to have to deliver news of failure, either, and with that thought, he felt out with his mind, probing at her insecurities. Smirking yet again—he derived such pleasure from this!—he sent an image to her mind, of her friend, lying still in his pool of blood. However, he added to this image, inserting a shadow Heartless, prowling about and coming across his dead body, sniffing at the blood and then splashing eagerly through it, small crimson waves splattering back into the still-warm pool, ripples flowing from the drops.

The Heartless stopped next to his body, tilting its head slightly and looking down at the boy, bouncing slightly in anticipation. It looked rather confused that its prey wasn't trying to run, but a moment later, all confusion was gone, and the Heartless was plunging a clawed hand into his chest. The body convulsed once, the mouth opened in a silent shriek as the shadow pulled out a glowing heart (not the organ; oh, no, the Heartless preyed on the good in one's heart, which normally manifested itself into a shining jewel, of sorts).

The Heartless released the heart; the many-faceted agate floated before it, light shining from every inch of the stone. One could relate the look on the shadow's face to that of greed as the heart floated toward it, being absorbed into its dark flesh.

The body disappeared from the dark liquid surrounding it.

He watched with no little satisfaction as the girl screamed, her shrill cry echoing throughout the night. 'Kairi?!' cried the boy, turning to her. 'Kairi, what's wrong?'

'Riku . . .' she sobbed, clinging to him. 'Riku, he—' And she fainted, dead away. She would have fallen to the cobblestones if the boy hadn't grabbed her around the waist.

He rose an eyebrow as the boy lowered her to the stones gently, bending beside her and beginning to rummage through his bag. However, he didn't want to lose this edge he'd created, and so he turned to the wall, leaping onto it an scaling it easily, blending into the shadows perfectly. Once on top of the building, he looked back down, to see the boy leaning over the girl, dripping something into her mouth. He scowled at them, then set off again, dashing along rooftops and jumping effortlessly to the next. On each one, he paused momentarily, looking off of all four sides for the one he had been sent to fetch, cursing when he wasn't anywhere to be seen, and running to the next.

Another slender eyebrow rose as he spotted a small stream of garnet blood, trickling slowly from brick to brick. He leapt from the top of the building to the streets below, landing gracefully and bending to one knee, studying the stream with a practised eye. He touched a finger to it and raised it to his lips, tongue darting out to lick his finger clean of the liquid, as rare to him as wine to youth, and just as well received. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to savour _his_ wine for a minute, then stood, striding toward the stream's source.

Of course, it didn't take long to take; the boy had fallen in one of the valleys of the poor cobbling job, and the blood had moved slowly back into the hollow, submersing his entire lower body in it. He had to look with renewed interest over the boy's profile; he had died while on his back. Interesting. Considering the amount of blood around him, as well as the fisted hands, he must have been in considerable pain before he had died.

He frowned irritably as he noticed that there was no clear path to the body; he didn't want to taint the blood by touching it. Instead, he jumped into the mess, hovering over the body as he looked over the body. He was mildly surprised to see that rigor mortis was beginning to set in; the boy had been fighting until the death, had he?

There was a shout, and he looked up, quite aggravated by this new arrival. He'd found the boy first, meaning he got to take him. That was how it worked.

However, it didn't look like the two behind him were going to take 'no' for an answer.

The girl was screaming again in denial, turning away from the sight of her friend's body. The brown-haired boy whispered something to her quietly, and she nodded, dashing off without a backwards glance. He caught a sight of her face as she ran by; it was streaked with tears. He reached out again to touch her mind, chuckling at the echoes of, 'He can't really be dead. He can't be! Mickey said he wasn't; Mickey knows these things . . .'

He alighted on the cobblestones gracefully before the other boy, pausing to bow with a sarcastic grin before speaking. 'A friend of yours, is he?' Even to him, he sounded rather mocking. Oh, darkness. 'Well, I'm sorry to say that he isn't any longer.'

'Move away,' said the boy steadily, but he could tell that the boy was close to charging. 'We're taking Riku with us.'

'Oh, is _that_ his name?' he asked, tossing a carefree glance over his shoulder. 'Reeeeeekoooooo . . . hmm. Pity.'

'What is?' the boy asked suspiciously.

'That the Fates ripped it from him, of course,' he said, turning back and striving to keep his face entirely innocent. 'They only save the ones they really like. And 'Riku' is just a bit too droll for them, I'm afraid.' While the boy was quirking an eyebrow, close to asking what in the world he was talking about, he spoke again. 'But don't worry. Perhaps the Master will allow him it back. Though I seriously doubt it.' And with that, he turned, floating again over the puddle of garnet wine, wine that he would take back to the others, long with the body.

If he could get to the body, that was. He paused as a whistling cut through the air, a split second before a Keyblade drove through where his head would have been in another moment. He turned to see the boy beginning to dash toward the blood, raising a hand to catch the returning Keyblade. He lifted it to rest over his shoulder and glared at him, daring him to touch his friend.

He sighed, moving back to the cold stones. 'If you wish to fight over this, very well. But please remain out of the blood.' _We wouldn't want my reward soiled by the likes of the _Light_, now, would we? Of course not._ He flexed his hands once and waited for the boy. 'Go on, attack me.'

There was a pause, as the boy tried to figure out if he was serious, and then the boy rushed at him, swinging his Keyblade in an overhead arc. The Keyblade was quickly stopped, however, as two palms caught it between their grasp. He focused, reaching into the Keyblade itself, reading remnants of past Keyblades' memories. He reached within himself, using his own abilities—

Two Keyblades materialised in his grasp; one black, one white.

It was no small feat to accomplish, but it was worth it to hear the gasp of shock from the boy. He smirked, driving his own Keyblades against the other's; the three met with a loud, resounding _clank!_

He had always been rather good with swords, and he found that a Keyblade was almost exactly the same. The boy, while he had some moves that he'd never seen before, and had obviously had much practise, was slow, his strikes weak. He found himself smiling slightly in amusement as he parried yet another stroke, then retaliated with one of his own, one that made the other boy's arms shake. This battle would be easy.

And then the boy shouted, 'Ars Arcanum!' His entire body glowed with a golden light (he had to fight the urge to turn away) and his strikes came quicker, harder, so that his arms almost vibrated as the blades connected.

He gritted his teeth as the attack ended. _So, the amateur has some moves. It's time to end this, then. Before someone else comes along. Like that girl._ With the black Keyblade, he drew a bit of a circle around the boy, parrying with his other hand. Hoping that the boy wouldn't attack quite yet, he drove the white blade through the centre of the circle, at the same time plunging the black blade into the ground at the edge of the circle and releasing both handles. In the centre, the white glowed darkly, and the circle filled itself in, becoming an inky portal. The boy fell into it with a yell, struggling to heave himself out of the darkness, but he only fell in further, until it completely consumed him, except for one hand, which was still held wide open; a signal for something. The darkness twined around his hand, completely covering it, and was dragged down as well.

The portal disappeared. The white Keyblade (Oathkeeper, the original Keyblade had called it) fell to the cobblestones with a loud _clang_ as the black one (Oblivion) remained upright. _Score one for the darkness . . ._ he thought grimly, struggling to pull Oblivion out of the two stones its blade had wedged between. _Now, how to transport the blood . . ._

In the end, he decided to take the entire spit of land that the blood covered. He erected a small barrier around the land, completely spherical, with himself hovering over the boy once more. As he began to concentrate, to take them back to the darkness, Keyblades held on his lap, he caught sight of the girl running back into the clearing, another figure beside her. She caught sight of him immediately—how could she not?—and her eyes grew wide as she grabbed the shoulders of her companion, pointing her companion in his direction.

He smiled cheerfully, giving her a little wave before their bubble disappeared completely.

.f.a.l.l.

The Master was not happy.

**'If your rat-sized brain can go to pains to remember, exactly what did I tell you to do?'**

He shivered slightly, for the first time thankful of the silver-haired boy he held in his arms. That boy was the only thing keeping him from instant destruction. 'You told me to retrieve the boy, Master.'

**'And what else?'**

'You told him to not leave any survivors!' chimed in the child. 'And he _did,_ didn't he, Master? He left the boy and the girl! Of course the boy is gone now, isn't he? Gone, gone, gone, left to float for eternity and forever!' she giggled. 'And no-one can ever find him because if they do he shall fall! And he'll fall, fall, fall, fall, fall into the waters, the waters, the waters; they burn and freeze and poison and blind and deafen and yet keep alive at the same time so that you can feel all the pain on your body!' There was another giggle, and a little _poouuf_ of air passed him, making him believe that she'd twirled in delight. 'I love the waters! BUT! He still left the girl! And he didn't _do_ anything about it! He should have brought her here, shouldn't he? Of course! Because then me and Shari and Jannon and this one and that one and anybody else would have our fun!'

He could almost _feel_ the Master smiling at her, and glared. Why did _she_ fall under the Master's graces? She always spoke out of turn, even _over_ the Master! And she would never shut up, to boot.

**'You are correct, my child. I specifically instructed _you_ not to leave any survivors.'** The Master had turned back to him, and he imagined the Master's harsh eyes narrowed at him. **'But apparently, it was too much of a task to ask. Deliver him to the crone, and go back to finish the job. And this time, I want no show of pity. Such show will result in your own trip to the waters.'**

He swallowed hard. 'Yes, Master.' With that, he backed away from the Master, until he'd passed through the door and was out of sight. No-one just _walked_ away from the Master; it was a known fact he had once hurled a dagger at one who had given him bad news. Because of his insolence, the man had taken the dagger straight through his left side, wedged neatly between the bones in his back to pierce his heart.

He had died instantly, crumpling to the ground, only to turn to dust.

Needless to say, no-one had turned their back to the Master since.

As he strode through the halls, he wondered how the ones on the surface lived. When he had been sent to retrieve the boy, it had been 'overcast,' but his eyes still burned as though they'd seen the deepest pits of Hell themselves. The darkness in which they lived was so much more welcoming. And as if that wasn't enough, he was now having trouble seeing; he'd quite nearly run into two walls—no, three walls—already. He turned yet another corner and gasped, having stopped just short of slamming into the crone. 'He has arrived?' her voice queried, oddly solemn.

'You think I would bother to carry any other?' he shot back irritably.

A gnarled hand reached out, touching his face carefully. _'Turroth_.' He nearly dropped the boy as its eyes shot open, darting around, beginning to struggle to break free.

'Oh, dear,' said the woman, sounding downright pleased. 'Still kicking.'

'You're telling me,' he grunted, finally grabbing the back of the boy's neck and holding him still. 'Fix it.'

'Oh, fine,' sighed the crone. '_Minem_.' The boy stopped his thrashing and nearly fell to the floor. 'I suppose the little one will have the fun of it.'

He glared at her in the darkness, slinging the boy over his shoulder. 'She _will_ have the fun of it. You may be breaking the laws of the Intervigiliumance. Such chances will not be tolerated by our Master. Now, to the room.' He felt, rather than saw, the crone rolling her eyes as she turned to lead him down the hall to a room.

It was dark and damp, just the way he preferred it to be. The boy would be having one of the best rooms in their realm! He scowled darkly, depositing the boy none-too-gently on the floor.

'You're not very nice to him!' shrieked the girl. 'Me and Shari and Jannon and that one and this one and you and Jannon aren't very _happy_ with that—ooooh, did you bring the blood?'

'No, I left it puddled in the middle of the street where he died,' he answered with a scowl.

'Awww . . . no, you didn't! You couldn't've! You like the blood as much as I do; you would _not_ have left it! You didn't leave it, you didn't, you _didn't_! Where _is_ it?!'

He smirked at her. 'Remember, Master said no permanent damage. And don't you _dare_ let the Light touch him.'

He left the room once more—there was one more problem he needed to deal with.

_Intervigiliumance  
Light to dark, dark to light  
Fright to fear, fear to flight  
Test of courage, test of skill  
Test of darkness, crawling chill  
Test of endurance, tests of mind  
Tests to make the spell unwind  
Rasping screaming, gasping cries  
Futile endeavours to cut the ties  
Hear no evil, see none, too  
No evil sounds shall come from you  
Two ways to go, one path to choose  
Neither path winning, neither to lose  
Walk the roads, well-tried and tattered  
Choose only that to which you mattered  
No light, no dark  
Shall interfere  
Blinding pain  
Visions sear  
We forces three of fate and dark  
Call the challenge, take its mark  
Let death be known to those who hear  
Death be known to the one with fear  
**Intervigiliumance**_

**1 **— .s.l.e.e.p. — **1**


	2. xystus

**Chapter Two:** a chapter of irony. A chapter of little action. A chapter of revelations and realisations, as well as a chapter of coming to grips with the facts of life. And how they are not always what they seem.  
No, this isn't Star Wars. In Final Mix, you fight an unknown with a lightsaber. --;  
And as a note, I am getting _very_ irritated by ff.n, who refuses to let you type their name. I need either stars, tildes, or brackets. Your choice. Leave one or the other. Currently, you are giving your patrons no way to express a scene change. This is blatant idiocy. Thank you.  
**Kingdom Hearts** is not owned by me. In fact, my game is possessed by another at this moment.  
**Suggested Music**: _Hymn of the Fayth_ from Final Fantasy X. During the flashback scene, _Otherworld_ from Final Fantasy X, then _Eyes on Me_ from Final Fantasy VIII or _Always on My Mind_ from Kingdom Hearts, preferably the latter. Trust me when I say you'll know when to switch songs.  
Contact me if you want the songs to be sent to you.

**2 **— .x.y.s.t.u.s. — **2**

Aqua eyes opened slowly, accompanied by a groan of pain that quickly changed to a gasp of surprise. A hand brushed against his forehead, then slid down over his eyes in disbelief. Seconds passed as he tried to comprehend what he'd just seen, wondering if it was real or just a hallucination.

Finally, the hand moved upwards again, allowing Riku to see the green treetops overhead. This time, it was his arm that draped over his eyes, fingers plucking idly at the blades of grass under him as he tried to calm his racing thoughts. Why could he see _trees?_ He'd been in the city, in that abandoned city, fighting off anything that had tried to attack him, until—

Riku drew in a quick breath as his mind completed the thought: until _they_ attacked.

He shook his head ruefully; the first one had been no match for him. Dodging and flipping away, using skills honed by—what was it; years?—of fighting Heartless. But then the thing had summoned more, surrounding him, each glaring from beneath their hoods.

They had drawn their weapons, beams of burning red light, swinging them overhead as they'd rushed toward him. He'd driven forward as well, raising his sword to block the first glowing blade.

He'd never thought it would fail to block the beam.

The red light had cone straight through the Wingblade and continued toward him. Riku had managed to move, but as it flashed past, he'd felt the heat from the light . . .

.f.l.a.s.h.

He landed hard on the ground and rolled immediately, the mandatory sabre smashing into the ground and showering him with chips of stone as he came out of the roll, one knee on the ground. He pushed off immediately, summoning enough energy to jump over them, arching his body away from red blades while stabbing downwards with his own. He thought he'd connected, but upon landing, he saw five dark hoods staring his way, none seeming to be harmed.

Reasonably unnerved, Riku ran, ducking into one of the many abandoned buildings the city was home to. He leapt over decaying beast carcasses, past the closet he'd hidden out in to sleep, and into a large open room, littered with pillars. He scaled one to a particularly shady corner and hid himself, trying to quell the need for gasping breaths. When they entered, however, the need vanished. Riku found himself holding his breath. As the creatures prowled the room, scouring each corner for him. As they searched, Riku ignored the small voice asking why they were searching specifically for him—surely if they were just looking for something to kill, they wouldn't have bothered to follow him. It was at _this_ particular moment that Riku realised there was something breathing down the back of his neck.

The boy whirled, finding himself looking into a pair of red eyes. He cursed mentally, smashing the hilt of the Wingblade into the beast's head, catching it as it fell so that it wouldn't alert the creatures to where he was hiding. However, as Riku observed all the creatures turning to face him, he sighed, noticing that the darkness he'd been hiding in was rapidly dissipating. Must have been a defence of the monster he'd just hit.

Riku heaved the monster bird's body over the rafter, smiling grimly as it hit its target: one of the hooded creatures. He followed the creature down, running and sliding on his knees under the blades of the other creatures, pausing only for the ironic thought that _he_ was the prey, this time.

He navigated the city with ease, having had quite a while to explore, but the creatures seemed to be right behind him, no matter where he went. However, Riku had one last trick up his sleeve that he was sure the creatures wouldn't expect.

Finally he saw it, skidding and nearly hitting his shoulder as he turned into the narrow alley. He vaulted onto it, a loud _clang_ sounding as his sneakers hit met rusted metal. Slipping into it, he brushed his fingers over the faded letters once (although he _still_ couldn't read into the word—_Ondero_—'s actual meaning.) before wrapping his fingers around the steering handle, pushing up several levers and tapping buttons. He felt the power building up beneath his hands, and when the grinding _whirr_ing sound was as shrill as he could handle he shoved the controls forward, expecting to feel the tired old machine jerk into action.

However, as the machine jumped forward, it quit working, jerking back and forth so suddenly that Riku hit his head on the back of the seat. Raising a hand to his head, Riku looked back and saw the power cords lying on the ground, one giving one last spark of energy as it died. He swore, slipping out of the cab of the machine and looking around. The creatures were there, surrounding the machine. He looked up to see one crouched on top of the machine and leapt aside, calling the Wingblade to his hand as he went. He touched the back of his head again upon landing, wincing as he did so, then readied his blade again. He knew he couldn't outrun them, but he wasn't going to go down.

He _couldn't_.

And so began another battle, Riku dodging every blow aimed his way, while attacking every time he got a chance. He was doing all right, he supposed, slashing one of the creatures' sides, though it would be best if he could have lost them. After all, he had to make it back. For—

Riku cried out in pain as something connected with the back of his head. He fell to his knees, vision spinning, diving away when he heard the telltale _whoosh_ of a sword cutting through the air. As he jumped into the air, his vision finally cleared, revealing a creature standing directly in front of him, arms crossed in what seemed to be impatience, watching the Wingblade about to cleave him in half.

Unfortunately, Riku's attack was cut short as blinding pain enveloped his senses, stemming from the small of his back. The Wingblade clattered to the ground harmlessly as he landed in a crouch, a hand going to where the light sword had pieced his back. He felt the creatures vanish from the area, but he was rather preoccupied, eyes wide in shock, breathing becoming shallow. _They've finished what they came for_, he thought bitterly.

He was going to die. Riku was sure of it; the things would not have left if he would survive the wound. However, he wanted to see her face one last time. He knew he wasn't far away from where he could, so he pulled himself to his feet, fingernails scrabbling to find a groove in the bricks to hold him up.

At the same time, though, he didn't want her to see him like this. He paused as he reached the edge of the city, listening to the waves touching the beach beyond. He didn't want her to suffer. He didn't want her to see him die.

He laid himself down on the ground carefully, squeezing his eyes shut in pain as he did so. He looked into the dismal grey sky and sighed. He didn't want to think it was over. Not yet.

His fingers twitched once, the Wingblade appearing in them from where he'd dropped it, only to disappear into a flurry of sparkles as he dismissed it—going back to wherever it was that the Wingblade went.

He grit his teeth as another spasm of pain wracked his body, gasping when the pain finally subsided. His hand, which had been clenched, dropped back to his side, into a growing pool of blood. Grimacing, Riku closed his eyes momentarily, then opened them once more. He would face death with his eyes open.

He blinked once more, a solitary tear trickling down his face.

_I'm sorry I never got to tell you, Kairi_ . . .

_I _. . .

Darkness overcame him, the words dying on his lips.

.f.l.a.s.h.

He jerked suddenly as something touched his shoulder, but as he looked for the thing behind him, he saw nothing there.

He climbed to his feet slowly, holding his arms before him to examine them. His skin was as pale as ever, but the long, half-healed gash that travelled the inside of his left arm was gone. All of his injuries were gone, he realised, lightly tracing where the scar would have formed. He'd been healed completely. Even his old clothes fit him perfectly, and they bore none of the various rips and stains that had once littered them. He felt better than he ever had since the beginning of the entire Kingdom Hearts fiasco.

Riku paused, letting all of the happiness at this discovery ebb away before looking down the road. Trees lined it on both sides, and it seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see. He turned to look the other direction, wondering if it went on as far the opposite direction, to see only a solid sheet of reddish rock greeting him. He turned back to the road, eyeing it warily He didn't know what was down that path, and he didn't know if he _wanted_ to know. However, staying there wouldn't change a thing.

Riku sighed reluctantly, glancing at the rock behind him once more before setting off down the road.

It wasn't an _unpleasant_ walk. The sun was shining gently; the trees caused the road to be mostly in shadow, patches of light spattering in odd patterns across the road at uneven intervals. A strange smell drifted on the breeze that reminded Riku almost of paopus . . . He laced his fingers behind his head as he continued, tipping his head back slowly to stare at the sky. The trees he was walking under were laden with fruit, some red, some green, and some yellow, all of different sizes. After a couple hours, he passed a few trees filled with orange-y red fruits seeming to be covered in a sort of fuzz, and then more of the trees from before.

The tinkling sounds of wind chimes reached his ears as a bird fluttered out of the trees, and Riku found himself smiling. It was so peaceful here. He would have loved to bring Kairi here. It was too bad he'd . . .

Riku raised an eyebrow as a tree appeared, far on the road ahead. He couldn't tell from where he was at currently, but it seemed almost as though it was in the _middle_ of the road. Riku paused, turning to look back, finding that the rock face he'd started at had disappeared, lost on the endless road. He was perhaps halfway there?

Well, then. He could pause a few minutes. Riku headed to the side of the road, content with this idea. He didn't really _need_ to, perhaps, but the prospect of having the time to just _sit_ there was nice after endless hours of fighting. As he settled down in the grass, leaning back against a tree and closing his eyes, there was a voice. 'You're almost there. Don't give up.'

Riku opened his eyes lazily. 'I'm not giving—'

His argument died in his throat as he looked at the next tree. The wood was shaped into a face, frozen in a scream of agony. The head led to a body, arms crossed over the person's chest. The lower body was not there, but rather the torso led _into_ the tree

It was as though the person had been absorbed into the tree.

He probably had.

Riku pushed away from the tree, making for the safety of the road again. He managed to set one foot on it before his feet were pulled from beneath him and he went down hard. In another moment he was dangling upside down, face-to-face with the tree. Riku cursed vehemently as he pulled himself up, trying to break the grasp the tree's branches—arms?—had on his ankles. When he couldn't free himself this way, his arm shot out, red sparkles solidifying into the Wingblade. Three slashes did away with the branches restraining his feet and other arm, allowing him to drop to the ground. Allowing the Wingblade to disappear, Riku picked up one of the tree's severed hands, bending the 'fingers' slowly.

The hand leapt at him, aiming for his throat, only to be sliced in two by the Wingblade, each part falling innocuously to the ground below.

Riku dismissed the Wingblade again with a sigh; he'd been expecting that to happen. He took one last look at the tree, collecting its scattered pieces and rejoining them to its branches, and set off down the road again, trying to keep himself from looking behind him for anything. As he walked, he realised that the road didn't seem as peaceful as it once had. He'd let down his guard for a moment, and had nearly been killed . . . again.

As Riku continued, he began to see more faces in the trees: some peaceful and relaxed, some scared and anxious. There was even a bearded old man, pipe sticking out of his mouth and fishing hat perched on his head. He was leaning against the tree, hands behind his head, one foot crossing over his bended knee. His eyes were closed peacefully, and Riku shuddered at the sight. The man hadn't had a chance.

His thoughts strayed from the trees as he continued down the road, pace quickening, straying to the voice he'd heard when he'd sat by the tree. It hadn't sounded like anyone he knew, yet the person had sounded genuinely concerned for him. But if he'd died, why would someone try to help him? He certainly wasn't deserving of it . . . if it had been him, he probably would have let himself be pulled into the tree.

Riku stopped short as the tree loomed up ahead of him, staring in awe at it. Bigger than he'd first imagined, the tree was holding all sorts of names. Riku read over some of the names, watching as one dropped to the ground. Seconds later, an old, wrinkled man stumbled off another road, picking up the name. Then, with a grin aimed toward Riku, the man ambled to the tree, walking _over_ a hole in the ground and settling himself on a swing. He looked upward, then waved to Riku as the swing began to move back and forth. Higher and higher the man swung, until finally a bright light enveloped him on the frontward swing, so bright Riku had to shield his eyes, and he was gone.

So if he'd made it here, his name would be on the ground somewhere, would it not? Riku began looking, first finding his family's section of the tree before finding his name near the swing. Riku picked it up, looking at it askance as a message appeared on it: _See tender for assistance_.

Riku raised an eyebrow at the message as it faded back to his name, then looked around, finally spotting a desk hidden in the foliage, the words 'The Tree Tender' written in elegant script across the front of it. He couldn't see anyone there, but as he grew nearer, he could see a figure slumped over the desk. He made his way to the desk slowly, all the while waiting for the person to speak, but as he reached the desk, he could finally see what was going on.

The figure was a girl, fast asleep. Her head was pillowed on a stack of paperwork, a stamp and inkpad lying next to her. Riku cleared his throat a couple times, then tapped the girl on the shoulder.

'Huh?' The girl sat up slightly, green eyes struggling to focus on Riku. 'Oh. It's you. I just got inspected last month, come back in another millennium.' Then her head tipped back down to the paper and she was out again.

Riku raised an eyebrow yet again, looking disdainfully at the girl. When she'd looked up, she'd revealed a smudged stamp on the paper, the red ink stamped onto her left cheek. He reached over and tapped her on the shoulder again; waiting wasn't his strong suit.

The girl raised her head again, glaring at him. 'Look, I already told you; I just got—oh.' For the first time, she noticed who he was. 'Oh. You're . . . um, you're not him, are you?' she asked weakly, leaning back into her chair. 'Who're you?' She rubbed her eyes and looked down at her hands, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the ink. She rubbed her cheek furiously, attempting to rid it of the ink, but it only spread. 'Um . . . one second, please.' She stood, walking into the forest behind her, but soon enough Riku heard twigs snapping quickly, telling him that the girl was running.

Within a few minutes the girl had returned, minus the ink, but face and hair dripping with water. She settled herself behind the desk and shuffled a few papers, but Riku could see that she was only trying to make herself look impressive.

'Um, okay. So . . . name?'

'Riku Renegadu.'

She looked up suspiciously. 'Uh, come again?'

'Riku Renegadu,' repeated Riku, mentally sighing in irritation.

The girl scratched her head and yawned before scanning down a list. 'Er, I don't see you on this list . . .—ooh, wait!' She reached into a drawer, pulling out a list, considerably shorter than the first one. She ran a finger down it, pausing at one name and biting her lip as she read the one under it. 'Ooooh, you've been Intervigiliumanced.'

'. . . Intervigiliumanced?"

The girl nodded once, and Riku could have sworn for a moment she looked evil. 'Intervigiliumanced,' she declared with a smirk.

'What's . . . Intervigiliumance?' asked Riku suspiciously.

The girl pushed a button on the desk's top, said desk top splitting and sliding apart. She yowled as her papers nearly slid into the widening split, but shoved them back onto the surface as a small screen flipped up and the desk slid back together. The girl tapped it once. 'Intervigiliumance.'

.  
_Intervigiliumance_

_A set of events set after  
the death of one or more of  
the most prominent persons in the  
battle against the light and/or  
against the dark.  
_.

The girl glared at it. 'Continue . . .' she said, tapping it again.

.  
_Continue_

_To go on with a  
particular action or in  
a particular manner;  
persist.  
_.

'Hmph,' scowled the girl, throwing herself back into the chair. 'Fool thing's got a mind of its own. Thinks it's clever.' Booted feet hit the desk with a _clump_, sending papers scattering as she ran a hand through her messy brown ponytail. 'Anyways, I guess I can't really tell you any more, but it's not very fun. Walk over the pit, past the swing, and through the trunk of the tree. You'll be sent back here when you're done and I can tell you more then. That said, good night; I have a few hundred years of sleep to catch up on.' She closed her eyes, leaning the chair back further, but Riku could feel her eyes on him as he stood, slightly irritated, and rubbed his temples. The girl had already given him a headache.

So, over the pit, past the swing, and _through_ the tree's trunk? Riku looked upwards as he turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose. He doubted the girl's directions—how could someone walk through a tree?—but in death, anything was possible, and not following directions could end in trouble for him.

He looked over the edge of the pit as he reached it. The pit was, like most things here, bigger than he had first expected, about twenty metres in diameter. The swing dangled directly over the pit, and experienced eyes could see the latch holding the bottom of the seat together. The idea was obvious. You sat on the swing, and if you were deemed worthy of going on to the next life, you were swung up to it. If not, the bottom of the swing would drop out, dropping the person into the pit with no possible way of escaping. Riku looked over the edge, but as far as he could see the tunnel stretched downward, fading into black. The darkness was momentarily disturbed by a flurry of sparks showering through, lighting up a face underneath. Riku shivered and pulled back from the pit. He didn't want to fall.

Riku hesitated, taking a step away and observing the pit. It _looked_ harmless enough, the swing swaying gently in the breeze, but he already knew looks were deceiving.

So how to cross the pit, then? He settled himself on the ground (making sure to keep far away from the trees and well out of the swing's path) and watched, trying to figure out how he could cross the pit. However, his thoughts could never concentrate on the pit, instead straying back to the city. He wondered if his friends would ever find out he'd died. A sudden idea came to him as he thought of this: What if he just . . . _waited_? What if he didn't cross over, but waited out the years for his friends to come?

_Bad idea_, he realised, watching an old woman wander off the path. That was the problem—it would be years, with nothing but his thoughts to ponder.

The woman hugged her name to her chest as she walked toward the swing, seating herself on it and tucking her legs beneath her. Riku stood, looking to see how the woman had crossed. She'd just walked over it as though there had been nothing there . . .

Riku paused at the edge of the pit again after the woman had gone, pausing only a moment before taking a breath and stepping over the edge.

Standing on nothing was strange, he thought, looking down at his shoes, past them to the ominous darkness of the pit below. Whatever was covering the pit gave slightly as he moved, but he felt sure that it wouldn't give, and he continued toward the centre without thought. When he reached the middle, a hand reached out to touch the swing, tempting Riku to sit on it and end everything. He refrained, though, reluctantly letting go of the swing as he persisted toward the tree. Upon reaching the tree, he reached out a hand to touch the tree, confident that it would go through. After all, everything else here didn't function normally; it was pretty safe to say that this wouldn't, either.

Sure enough, his hand went straight through. Hardly surprising after soul-stealing trees, solid air, and a literal family tree. Riku stepped forward, leaving the gentle peace of the road behind him as darkness enveloped him. Wondering where he would find himself when he reached the exit, Riku moved further into the tree, a hand trailing along the insides of the giant tree.

.f.a.l.l.

'_He has passed,_' said the crone, hands at her temples. _'The time is now_.'

'Yay!' cheered the little one. 'Time, time, time! Uuuuuuaaaaaaaahhhhhhh . . . oop!' with her little shout, a dagger sliced through the boy's silver hair, tearing with a rather unpleasant sound. When she spoke again, the pout was evident in her voice: 'Awww, the dagger's not sharp enough, you! It's not sharp and it doesn't cut cleanly and how'm I supposed to use this? See, it doesn't even—hey, where's she at? I can't poke her to prove my point if she's not here! And then I can't make her mad and she won't scream and I won't get to hear the lovelylov—'

'_The time is now_.'

'Yay! Time! Time for blood, time for dolls, time for dance and dusk and droll! It's _time_, Shari!'

.f.l.o.a.t.

Kairi wandered the halls of the castle, not quite paying any attention to those who greeted her. Lost in her thoughts, she meandered into the garden, meaning to sit in the castle-shaped bush for a bit to collect her thoughts.

What seemed like it had happened years ago (though in reality, it had only been a few days) was still haunting her. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw them: Sora's look of shock as the other thing's spell made him disappear. The sight of Riku disappearing in a pool of his own blood. Both of her friends had been taken from her. She was . . . alone.

But she wouldn't be for long. She wouldn't let her friends remain wherever they were right now. Even if she had to do it alone.

She _would_ save them.

Just as soon as she got her hair untangled from the bush. Kairi winced, leaning forward and reaching back to loosen the clinging branch's grip on her hair, scooting forward once it was freed.

Now, how could she find them? It was entirely possible that Mickey had a means of tracing the two—it was how they'd found Riku, after all—but she was fairly sure that if he'd been able to trace the two boys already, he would have told her, right? More than likely. Kairi sighed. It looked as though she'd have to find them herself.

Kairi scooted forward, meaning to leave to start searching, but before she could reach the 'door' of the bush, she paused. Footsteps were echoing into the courtyard. Someone was coming. She slid back into the bush, hiding herself in the shadows and watching the entrance to the yard through the branches. After several moments, a figure appeared in the entranceway, looking around the yard slowly, but Kairi couldn't figure out who it was, thanks to the bright sunlight reflecting off the armour the figure was wearing. She peered closer, trying to see past the light that was making her eyes hurt, but then the person spoke, and she sat back. 'Kairi?' the figure repeated, and she scrambled out of the bush, making her way around the castle so that he could see her.

'Yes?' she asked Goofy, pushing her hair out of her face again.

'Glad I found you!' he grinned, waving. 'The king's been lookin' for you everywhere! He thinks he—' Goofy clapped his hands over his mouth suddenly, looking around again. 'I almost forgot. We ain't supposed ta tell nobody! But you should go see him.'

'Thanks,' smiled Kairi. 'I think I'll do that . . .'

Mickey was hunched over something when Kairi strode into the room, stopping behind him. 'Goofy said . . . Goofy said you had something to show me?' she questioned.

Mickey turned to face her. 'Y'know, you look awful, Kairi. You been gettin' any sleep?'

Of course she hadn't. Every time she tried to, she relived that day. How could she possibly be expected to sleep? Kairi shook her head. 'That doesn't matter right now. What did you find out?'

The mouse king seemed to hesitate. 'I don't know if I should show you.'

'Show me,' Kairi insisted.

Mickey was definitely looking uncomfortable now. 'I don't know . . .'

'_Show me,_' Kairi repeated.

Mickey sighed, turning to a glass globe resting on the table. 'All right, I'll show you . . .'

.f.a.l.l.

The crone was alone now, alone with the silver haired body. Clouded eyes flitted sideways, somehow seeing the body in the darkness, and sighed. There was one issue yet to be resolved by their party.

Settling herself carefully on the ground, the crone pulled a long strip of black cloth from the folds of her cloak, lifting the boys head to wind it tightly around his eyes, securing the knot within the silver hair.

She stood again, looking sightlessly upon her work, and allowed herself a manic cackle. The damage had already been done . . .

.i.n.t.e.r.v.i.g.i.l.i.u.m.a.n.c.e.

Riku saw the glow long before he reached it; a dark blue pulsing that seemed to penetrate the darkness. As he emerged from the giant tree's trunk (which had been much longer than the outside had made the trek seem), he looked around in awe. Who would have thought the tunnel would lead to _this_?

He stood in the middle of space, standing on another invisible surface. Ten doors circled him. Ten plain, dark wooden doors in the middle of space, rounded tops and squared-off bottoms, each with a silver, tarnished knob at one side. Behind the doors, meteors floated past, somehow missing the planets he saw nearby (although he couldn't make out specific details of the planets; they only appeared to be solid-coloured balls of light). Before him, slightly below and to the right of his line of vision was a galaxy, rotating slowly, swirling as a hurricane would. Everything was lethargic, as though moving in slow motion when compared to the harried movements of the city he'd left behind. It was so peaceful.

It was nearly enough to make him go mad.

When the girl had spoken of Intervigiliumance, he'd seen the spark of anger in her eyes. This 'Intervigiliumance' wasn't a good thing. That he was into the challenge already and everything was so peaceful was putting him on edge, ready to attack at the slightest movement.

A light caught his eye, and Riku's head jerked toward it reflexively. Words were forming on one of the doors in a neat script, hissing as they formed. As he approached, the light began to dim in the same manner: starting from the beginning of the word and working its way to the end. However, as it finished, smoke drifted from where the light had been, revealing that the words had actually been _burnt_ into the wood.

.  
_Choose the door that suits you best  
Each door contains a certain test  
Pass the test with light or dark  
Each result will leave a mark  
Finish the tests, return to  
Life, to either light or  
Dark, in dark of  
Night _. . .  
_Begin  
_.

Riku raised an eyebrow—it seemed he'd been doing that a lot, lately—and walked away. So, he had to choose any door, and through that door, he'd find a test. But which to choose first?

He'd start from the end and make his way to the beginning. Riku went to the door directly in the middle, with the knob on the left of the door, and pulled it open. He strode into the door without pausing, trying not to think about what he'd find inside . . .

**2** — .t.r.e.e.-.l.i.n.e.d. .r.o.a.d. — **2**


	3. inaudax

**Chapter Three: **FINALLY. I have to apologise for taking so long with this, but the third chapters always seem to want to murder me. But it's done, it's here, aaaaaaaaaand it's in time for Christmas! Yei! I have to apologise for turning it into a song fic/chapter. I couldn't resist. Latin words . . . you'll find the translations for them at the bottom of each chapter, save for the title :) Finally, _yes_, Hyite's eyes are as I describe. I know the difference between the pupil and the iris :)  
**Kingdom Hearts** is not mine. I wish, though! Lyrics to _Lullaby for a Stormy Night_ belong to Vienna Teng.  
**Suggested Music:** _Lullaby for a Stormy Night_ by Vienna Teng, available at **http : w w w. viennateng. com/ listen** as well as _Above the Rising Falls_, an OverClocked remix, available at **http : w w w. ocremix. org/ detailmix. php? mixid OCR01229**

**3** — .i.n.a.u.d.a.x. — **3**

As the door closed behind him, Riku strode forward, determined not to let his suspicions get the best of him. This wasn't going to _kill_ him . . . right?

He walked for a few minutes in the dark, finally convincing himself that he was going in circles. As he drew this conclusion, he paused, waiting. He wasn't quite sure _what_ he was waiting for, but something told him to wait. He tapped a foot impatiently, waiting.

One minute went by. Then another. And a third. Riku looked around in irritation, arms crossed. Unless this was a challenge of patience—and perhaps it was—he wasn't going to get anywhere waiting like this.

That was the last thought he had before he was falling, falling, falling, through a hole that had suddenly appeared beneath his feet.

Riku couldn't help the yelp of surprise that forced its way past his lips, but stifled it quickly as he continued falling, biting down on one gloved hand. Whatever he'd been expecting, it hadn't been this.

However, before long he felt other forces pulling on him, and soon he alighted gracefully on a red and black chequered floor. Riku looked up over his head, but all he could see was chequered tile, stretching far overhead and finally turning to darkness. Riku shivered slightly; the effect was rather eerie. Before him, the tunnel did the same thing: tile spiralled over the wall and ceiling, making the entire tunnel seem circular—or maybe it _was_ circular? Riku didn't know; the entire thing was rotating slowly. He blinked twice as the tunnel's walls came in and out of focus, making him take a step to steady himself.

He couldn't stay here, he realised, as the tunnel was beginning to move faster. Riku made his way forward, but the spinning was playing with his senses; he stumbled forward, closing his eyes against the dizzying turning of red and black. Hopefully he wouldn't fall over anything.

_What's the point of this?_ Riku wondered as he staggered along, opening his eyes every few seconds to see if the swirling had stopped. _Why use such a trick for a challenge? This can't be a challenge_. _So _. . . _what _is _the challenge?_

A sound reached his ears, a deep pitched whine that slowly grew sharper, until the whine was so high and loud he winced. _Th—the siren!_

The siren was issued from the main island, normally sounded to signal a disaster or a hazard nearing the islands. Riku had heard the siren several times in his life, and no matter where they were, the villagers had dropped everything and rushed toward the safety of a house—any house. Riku remembered as a child no more than six, being hustled into a house by a man he'd never met before, watching his mother across the street ducking into a vendor's stand, looking around for her son. However, no sooner had the door shut than the man crouched down to his level, asking where his mother was and how they could reach her.

Of course, there hadn't _always_ been shelter nearby. Riku could remember himself, Kairi, and Sora holing up on Destiny Islands more than once, huddling together as far away from the door of the Great Tree as possible.

Now, however, Riku wasn't focused on finding shelter. He was wondering where the siren was coming from. He was wondering how whoever had sounded it had known about the siren on his island, and how they knew he'd respond to it.

His mind flashed back suddenly to the last time the siren had been run. A monsoon had attacked the islands, lightning striking a tree located between two houses, causing both houses to alight as well. By the time the monsoon had abandoned the island and the fires had been doused, three houses had been charred, one was burnt to the sand, and one had died. Riku felt a cold numbness spreading through his veins—whatever was going on now would be bad. He opened his eyes, the dizziness of the spiralling tunnel the furthest thing from his mind, and ran, down the tunnel toward the focus of the siren. The tunnel stretched before him, first seeming to be longer, then shorter, wider, and so narrow he couldn't breathe. The siren continued through it all, an incessant pounding at his ears that nearly made him fall to the ground more than once.

Finally, the end was in sight. Riku's pace quickened, his own ragged breathing pounding in his ears. It was bright up ahead . . . very bright . . . He was growing closer; the mouth of the tunnel was steadily growing bigger. Riku was met with a wall of heat as he continued running, which seemed only to fuel his flight, making him run faster, _faster_. He was having a really bad feeling about this . . .

_Another fire? But—I can't really—this can't be Destiny Islands!_

After what seemed like an eternity, Riku finally burst out of the tunnel, clothes quickly becoming plastered to his skin, due to the rain falling in sheets from the sky. Before his mind had processed this thought, or even adjusted to the stationary ground, his eyes had landed on another sight. A flaming house. More importantly, _his_ flaming house.

There was a crowd of people ringing it, and for a split second, Riku felt his lip curling—he'd never liked to have many people know where his house was. Of course, people were to be expected, he supposed; after all, his house was going down in flames . . .

He supposed he should be sad, but Riku couldn't bring himself to be. After all, his brother, Asa, owned another house exactly like it not far away. His parents were missing, presumed dead, so no-one would be in the house.

Riku's heart plunged, however, when the faint tinkling notes of a piano reached his ears.

Someone was inside.

Someone was playing.

There was a scream of terror before him, quickly muffled with the sound of hands clapping over someone's mouth, and Riku pushed through the people to the front to see Kairi and Sora, both staring at the house in horror. Sora seemed frozen, eyes wide, but Kairi was backing away, both hands over her mouth, stifling her scream. 'He—he's still inside!' she gasped, finally pulling her hands away. 'He's still _there_! We can't let him stay in there; he'll die!' She looked to both sides, and then, with a little cry, ran forward. _Towards_ the flaming house.

Within seconds, she was through the doorway, the door clicking as it settled back into its frame.

The clicking noise was the catalyst. Both Riku and Sora pushed forward, each crying, 'Kairi!' simultaneously. 'Kairi, come back!' Riku shouted, trying to push past Sora, who had been stopped by two men.

'Sora, you can't go in after her. I can't let you,' one was saying softly, trying to console the brunet, but he would hear none of it.

'And I can't let _Kairi_ go in!' he pleaded. 'She'll die!'

The men holding his arms both looked away, toward the ground. Riku knew what they were thinking: _Better one than two_._ Better two than three_. _We can't let any more die than already have_.

But he couldn't let her just kill herself that way. He shouted again, finally spotting an opening to run toward the house. However, he was little more than halfway there when he felt hands on his arms, pulling him back. _'You cannot interfere,_' said a voice at his right, deep and dark. Riku felt his blood run cold at it. _'If you try to interfere, she will die_._ It is as simple as that_.'

Riku grit his teeth. He couldn't let her die in the fire. But . . . if he tried to go in and save her, they would just kill her, wouldn't they?

Up at the door, someone looked up from the doorway. 'They can't get back out!' he shouted, obviously shaken. 'The knob's melted clean flat; it's stuck in the frame!'

Riku felt his legs give out from under him. Kairi was going to die. Simple as that. He felt the two men at either side of him, holding him up, but wished they would just leave him be.

There was a loud popping noise, and a section of the roof _exploded_, flaming pieces of shingle raining around them. Everyone winced, covering their heads, but as the shouts of surprise died down, Riku heard something that made the dread in his heart grow a hundred times heavier.

The piano was still playing—had it stopped yet?—but now, it was joined by another part. A slightly higher countermelody, played carefully and antagonisingly perfectly. He blinked hard, raising a hand to push silver hair from his face, listening closely for what he knew would be coming next.

Sure enough, after only a moment, two voices reached him, one a pure tenor almost like his own, the other a sweet alto, singing in harmony:

'_And I hope that you'll know  
That nature is so  
This same rain that draws you near me  
Falls on rivers and land  
On forests and sand  
Makes the beautiful world that you see  
In the morning . . .'_

A scream. His scream? He didn't know anymore; he had his eyes shut tightly against the sight, though it seemed to be inscribed into his mind.

'_Everything's fine in the morning . . .  
The rain'll be gone in the morning . . .  
But we'll still be here in the morning.'_

'_Stop!_' he cried, opening his eyes and watching drops of moisture fall into the dirt below. Was he . . . ?

It was only then that he realised it had.

Stopped, at least. The house before him was frozen, another piece of roof falling into the dirt below, rain paused midair. One note from the piano was being held out, never fading, never diminishing. Riku looked in amazement from person to person, the rain buffeted around by the air as he turned, until he reached the two that had held him back from the house. They were watching him curiously, heads tilted. He couldn't see their faces—they were in shadow, although they weren't wearing hat nor hood—but they seemed uninterested by the stopping of time.

Applause reached his ears, the slow, solitary clapping of one man. Riku tried to turn to see who it was, but the hands holding him back wouldn't loosen their grip, and as he couldn't see directly behind himself, he would have to wait. He wouldn't know what the person behind him looked like until he came before him. 'What's going on?' Riku asked warily.

The man was humming, Riku realised, humming a low song that cut off sharply when Riku asked. 'Ask and be answered, but be well aware: answers aren't biased; well they don't fare!'

Even understanding how dark the situation was—Kairi was trapped inside the house!—Riku couldn't help but raise a silver eyebrow. What _was_ this thing talking about? More uncertainly this time, Riku repeated his question.

'Trial the first is trial the worst,' answered the voice cryptically. 'Others may argue; their bubbles have been burst. Listen closely, my boy, for this _is_ the last time, that you will be free to speak without rhyme!'

'What do you me—' Riku began to ask suspiciously, then cut himself off.

'Breaking the rules of the challenge, you see,' explained the man patiently, 'gives another opportunity of torture to _me_. You've mark number one, allowed me some fun! Watch and see, consequences three.'

Time unfroze, the last note trailing off into nothingness. The part of roof falling landed on the ground with a crash, a spout of flame issuing from where it struck the ground, forcing all the fire to one side of it. There was a scream from inside the house.

Above all of it, there was a ticking.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Time froze again, another flaming piece of debris dangerously close to Riku's head.

'Watch and see, consequences three,' repeated the voice, softer this time, closer. 'If you disobey the rules that I've set, another of your few consequences is met. You've allowed one to me, subtracted from three. You've only two left; your words must be deft.'

Riku couldn't help but grimace at the chain of words. It was evident that the other man had had plenty of time to come up with a rhyme (and he smirked at this thought; was he already beginning to think in rhymes?), while Riku had just been told this, and wasn't quite sure if he could adhere to the rules of the challenge. He stared at his feet for a minute in thought, then posed a question, starting slowly, but gradually gathering more confidence: 'Tell me, _monsieur_, is it false or true, that the rules you've set also apply to you?' There. That was good, wasn't it? He'd heard the word _monsieur_ used around the Beast's castle, but he wasn't positive if that was how to use it . . . Riku sighed as the other man didn't immediately pounce upon his line. Apparently, he'd been right.

The voice's owner finally circled around him, and Riku smirked to himself at the spark of challenge in the other man's grey eyes. 'Normally, no, I'm above my own rule. But I suppose I can make an exception for you. Raising the stakes should be much more fun, but don't expect me to make mistake number one.'

'But I bet you'll miss yet,' pressed Riku, challenging him. 'Stakes must be set. Because, as they'll tell, you must have consequence as well.'

The man seemed absolutely delighted by this; he clapped his hands once and hopped slightly. 'Finally someone who picked it up fast! A shame, my dear boy, that you had to come last.'

'Stories for later, when I leave to where I came,' quipped Riku. 'Tell me your stakes, and then, what is your name?'

The man made a face at him. 'For every time that I fall out of rhyme, we will rewind your last consequence of time.'

'Fine. Start the game,' said Riku, 'and I repeat: what's your name?'

'What does it matter; what's in a name? However, it's Tiyhe, if it's all the same.'

Riku fixed the name to the face. The man called Tiyhe was short, at least an inch shorter than Riku himself. Light brown hair stuck out in all directions, making it look like he'd just rolled out of bed. He wore a pinstriped light blue and white button-down shirt, left untucked over black pants and boots. He was quite aware that it was his 'turn' to speak, and after a moment of contemplation he asked, 'Is that all there is to this game that we play? To wait for someone to err in some way?'

Tiyhe smirked, grey eyes seeming to spark with malice. 'That was a lousy rhyme you just said. Is it infamous Riku is losing his head?'

_Just answer the damn question_, Riku nearly spat, but contained himself, instead answering, 'You've had experience, as time would surely tell. Now, I've answered your query; answer mine as well.'

'Very well,' said Tiyhe, 'I'll explain why your house burns, but do me the favour of permitting me extra turns?'

'Take as much time as you need to tell the tale, about the challenge over which I must prevail,' Riku agreed, wincing slightly as he realised the rhyme was a bit longer than all the previous ones had been. The two men that had been holding him finally released him; Riku had actually forgotten they were there, so intense upon the rhyming had he been.

Tiyhe raised an eyebrow as Riku felt the blood rushing back into his hands, but didn't comment, instead launching into his explanation. 'You're skilled in asking what the true challenge be. You'd never find out, were it left up to me. Having someone to duel with has always been fun, but before long, our numbers will reduce back to one.' He sighed mournfully before continuing, 'Rhyming can be a tricky thing to do, so I added it to my challenge: in one, there is two. Thinking of rhymes has always kept me occupied, too, while waiting for another Intervigiliumance to pass through.' This time, Riku raised an eyebrow at the awkward wording of his rhyme. 'Look, what a shame! Rhymes are fading away. Boy, this could well be your lucky day.

'But continuing, the challenge is to tell me a name. If you figure it out, you'll have won our little game. The name not of a friend, though foe may it be, the name of a 'sin' is what you'll tell to me. Of Ficre's Sins, this is admitted the least. Few find the courage to tame this beast. Give the word and the challenge starts; as a precaution, it comes in two parts.'

Riku held up a hand, looking to the side as he thought about this. Finally he said, 'Before I shall leave, stop playing with my head. My . . . my friend Kairi. Is she truly . . . de—ah!' Riku felt his knee give out from underneath him as a sharp pain lanced through it, almost as if a needle had been shoved straight through the joint. However, with a quick hopping step, he had regained his balance.

Unfortunately, Tiyhe was looking at him with a demonic grin that nearly threw his balance off again. 'That would be consequence number two!' he proclaimed, doing a little jig in place. 'Really, I thought you knew better, Riku.'

As he said this, Riku's mind was racing, racing to find some way to keep the screams from starting again. 'Screams will be ended, my challenge to start,' he blurted, nearly stumbling over his words as he spoke. 'Courage to help me, go to the first part!'

As screams reached his ears again, Riku's surroundings faded to darkness, the crackling sound of the flames fading with it, leaving him in silence as an eerie fog drifted past. Strangely, Riku found he could see past the darkness and the haze, he could see _through_ it to where another figure was leaning casually with his back against something else, one foot braced against the wall as though to push himself off. One hand was buried deep in a pocked, the other holding the edge of a black fedora, pulled low over the figure's eyes. Something about the figure was familiar, and as he moved closer, Riku could recognise it to be Tiyhe. 'I know Intervigilium isn't mere jokes like this, so drop the façade and the shadowy mist,' Riku rhymed flatly.

As he finally arrived in front of Tiyhe, the other man raised his head, revealing dark eyes, ringed with red along the outer edge of the pupil. The red seeped into the iris, deepening it to a colour that was nearly black. 'Unlike the Tiyhe you met before, rhyming is not something I require in my part of the challenge,' said the man. His voice was quieter, darker somehow, deeper.

Riku tried to keep himself from backing away, hiding the shock he'd felt at the first sight of the man's eyes. That wasn't the only difference between the man and Tiyhe, Riku noticed, finally taking in some of the subtle changes. As he removed the fedora, Riku could see darker hair, although it still stuck out in all directions. He was taller, too; much taller than Riku, wearing a deep red shirt and a long black trenchcoat.

'If you're not Tiyhe,' Riku asked warily, 'then who are you?'

'You may call me Hyite,' said the man—

And then he was gone.

Riku felt the hand curling around his throat before it actually touched; he ducked and lashed out towards where he imagined the man to be, listening to the telltale _swish_ing of the trenchcoat as the man—Hyite—dodged. He threw himself to the side to avoid the impending attack, but a hand was twisted into his hair and a booted foot into his back, rendering him motionless. 'This may be a tougher ordeal than I previously thought.' There was a pause, and then the man spoke again. 'Excellent . . . I've been looking for a challenge lately. We will see how much of one you prove to be.'

An arm wrapped around his throat as the man bent forward, twisting Riku's arm behind his back, pulling him upwards as Hyite removed his foot.

Riku tried to struggle, but it was as though his veins had been filled with lead. He hung limply, feet just barely touching the darkened ground, straining to move an arm. However, the man merely pulled him further into the air, hissing into his ear, 'And we'll see to which you turn.'

Hyite dropped him unceremoniously, stepping over his crumpled body to stride into the darkness. 'Come,' was the only thing said. Rubbing his neck, Riku glared after him, struggling to stand. He staggered after the man slowly, cursing him in as many different ways as he could.

He felt something liquid sliding over his arm, trickling down his fingers. A weight began to grow in his hand, a very familiar weight, and Riku looked down to see his sword, slowly materialising in his hand. So . . . he could summon the Wingblade here. That would be an invaluable secret. Riku let the sword disappear for the time being, but kept his hand tense, ready to summon the Wingblade at a moment's notice.

He found Hyite standing at the edge of a lake. How he could distinguish dark land from dark water, he didn't know, but yet, there it was. As he approached, the man turned toward him, mahogany eyes flashing darkly.

'Are you ready?' Hyite asked.

_Ready for _what, _exactly?_Riku wanted to ask scathingly, but kept himself from repeating the question aloud. Fists clenched at his side, Riku nodded once, muscles tensing.

Hyite seemed to smirk, an expression that did not go unnoticed by the other as he turned away, waving one hand before them.

Almost instantly, the waters began moving, lapping up against the shores, and their surroundings began to dissolve. Everything lightened until they were surrounded by a light blue. Riku felt a shiver go up his spine as a simple yet haunting tune was picked out painstakingly on what sounded to be a piano, but yet wasn't. He saw the source of the tune nearby: several 'wires,' stretched thin over the water's surface, each sounding a clear note as the water struck them. He knew from past experience that if he touched them, they would play as well. Several rooms he'd explored in Hollow Bastion had used the same system to create instruments; one of his pastimes in the Bastion had been carefully plucking out that same tune the crystal cords played now. He felt his shoulders tensing as it continued, and he had to struggle with himself not to allow the Wingblade to form in his hands.

Water was moving on all sides of them, quickly and smoothly, rushing as far away from them as possible. Hyite glanced at the waters, lips tightening in mirth as he remarked, 'I can think of no other place. A suitable location for the first challenge to begin.' He crossed his arms and looked to the ground before them, where another Riku—or more accurately, his body—lay motionless.

Riku watched the scene playing out before him with a grim horror; far above and beyond them, he could see a spot of black, moving toward them. Just then, his other self began to stir, grasping at his head in pain and looking around. Riku heard his own thoughts echoing through his head: _Wh—where am I?_

The other Riku pushed himself to his feet, slowly turning in a circle to better see his surroundings. Riku could only guess what it looked like: to see the falls flowing backwards, flowing _up_ the incline instead, followed by a figure dressed all in black and then another version of himself—

The other Riku's gaze seemed to slide right over Hyite, but when it reached himself, the other boy paused, looking straight into blue-green eyes for a split-second before turning away, calling for Kairi and Sora.

Finally, his other self stopped, hands falling to his side and head hanging. _Where are they?_ The thought reflected in Riku's mind. _They've got to be here, too_. _I can't—they—they couldn't have been left behind!_

He pushed himself off, alighting effortlessly on a floating stone—for a moment. Then he stumbled forward, only just managing to catch himself before he fell off the stone. Riku smirked slightly at his younger self, partly because of his naïveté, and partly because he would never stumble on the stones nowadays. However, before he could prove it to himself, their surroundings blurred, instantly transporting the two to the top of the stones, to the first lift that would take them to the castle. Riku snuck a look at Hyite, who stood, stony-faced, then turned back to his other self, who was staring at the castle. Eyes turned to a reddish crystal near the edge of the platform, and he crossed to it, examining it with a quizzical expression.

'Deep thoughts?' Riku muttered, voice overlapped by another, darker voice. The Riku looking at the transport crystal whirled, elbows raised.

A chuckle. 'There is no need for combat, child. I am merely here to see who has trespassed the borders of the Bastion.'

'The Bastion?' asked the younger Riku hesitantly.

A black-robed figure stepped into view, a mottled green hand holding a sleek staff, signifying their prowess at magicks. 'Look before you,' said the figure, 'and gaze upon the wonder that is the Hollow Bastion.'

Riku shivered at the words; he was now able to recognise the voice as the witch Maleficent's. _Don't go with her, you idiot_ . . . _turn around and run from her _. . . However, no matter how much he pleaded with his other self, he wouldn't be able to change the course of history. The other Riku looked upon the castle in the distance in concealed awe, looking back at Maleficent, who had an odd smile on her face. 'Do you think—do you think there might be other people there?' he asked hesitantly. 'Other people who don't belong there?'

'It is a possibility,' answered Maleficent. 'The worlds are often travelled lately; if who you are searching for are not here, perhaps they are on another world.'

'How do you get to other worlds?'

'Come, my dear child. Come into the Bastion; we must speak of this elsewhere . . .'

Riku tasted bile in his throat as the scene changed abruptly; as he found himself standing, alone, in the middle of the chapel. No, not alone. Maleficent was standing before him, a dark glare on her face. She wasn't speaking—she would not speak until he knelt before her, one of the rules she'd laid on him. To signify that he was her servant, her loyal servant.

But he wouldn't give her that pleasure.

Before, she had merely curled a lip in disgust at his open defiance, but this time she spoke, voice positively _dripping_ with malice. 'I have tolerated your insolence long enough. You will kneel before me.'

There was a barely-perceptible glow around her staff as she spoke, but the repercussions were huge. Riku fell to his hands and knees as the gravitational forces on his body suddenly increased, determined to drive every square inch of oxygen out of his lungs. He gasped for breath, but every time he drew that blessed breath, it was forced out of his lungs once more.

The force subsided slightly, only enough that he could breathe once more. He panted for breath, trying to balance the amount of oxygen and carbon dioxide in his blood once more, mind not registering what the witch was saying. He felt more forces joining the downward one, pushing against his body until he was kneeling at Maleficent's feet, eyes closed in a mixture of horror and hatred.

'It was reckless to bring her here without at least using a vessel,' said Maleficent, as though what had just occurred had never been. 'Remember, relying too heavily on the dark powers could cost you your heart.'

He wanted to respond, to tell her that he didn't care anymore, that he would work on his own from now on. He grit his teeth, silver hair still swaying in front of his eyes as his body moved, back and forth as he struggled to breathe more.

There was a sudden noise, much like a roar, and Maleficent's gaze shifted from Riku, the pressure on his body receding. He jumped to his feet, head turning slowly to the doorway. However, there was nothing there, and as Maleficent spoke, he knew he'd received his next assignment. 'A castaway. Though his world perished, his heart did not. When we took the princess from his castle, he apparently followed her here through sheer force of will.'

_Wish I'd known that was possible _. . .

'But fear not. No harm will come to you. He is no match for your power.'

'My power?' Riku repeated sceptically. He couldn't even fend off the witch's power, and the roar had been full of power, of hatred, of want.

'Yes, the untapped power that lies within you,' answered Maleficent, eyes gleaming. 'Now, child, it's time you awakened that power, and realised your full potential.'

A strange green aura surrounded Riku's body; he raised his hands to look at it. With a start, he realised just what was happening to him—_again!_—and threw his arms to either side. 'No!' _I won't let her influence me more_. _I _won't

The green dissipated almost immediately, and he glared defiantly into Maleficent's harsh eyes. 'I won't be your tool any more. I know where Kairi is, and where her heart resides. I don't need your false promises _any more!_'

Everything returned to darkness.

Riku found himself staring directly into Hyite's red-black eyes, the other man standing with a smirk on his face. 'Memories are often not as harmless as they seem,' he said, gesturing to the rolling waves. 'One more, I think, and we shall allow you to take the final challenges.'

Before Riku could reply—he didn't want to see another painful memory—their surroundings swirled once more, transporting them to a very familiar place—the doors of Kingdom Hearts. Sora and his two companions were pushing at the doors of Kingdom Hearts with all their might, but nothing was happening. 'Hurry!' squawked the fowl, looking at Sora, who had almost stopped.

'I can't . . .' the brunet gasped, squeezing his eyes shut in horror.

'Don't give up!' Riku whispered, as another, gloved, hand curled around the edge of the door. He didn't have to look to know it was him again, with a sad smile on his face as he decided his fate. He would be staying inside Kingdom Hearts, the ultimate Hell, to repent for his choices. It was a punishment he'd brought upon himself.

'Come on, Sora!' Riku's younger form pressed, a cheeriness that sounded all too false. 'Together, we can do it!'

There was a moment of silence before Sora's voice came through, agreeing. The doors of Kingdom Hearts slid, slowly, slowly, King Mickey and Sora locking the doors for all eternity. Riku felt a cold weight lowering itself onto his shoulders: the weight of Kingdom Hearts. The weight of everything that had happened and was to happen in the future. It was all-encompassing, overwhelming him. Riku closed his eyes momentarily, taking a deep, shuddering breath. Although he was not the one inside, he could still feel the shadows attacking, each trying to seize his heart for itself. The only beam of light in the otherwise bleak landscape.

'You have seen your past actions, particularly those which changed your life the most,' intoned Hyite, waving a hand across Riku's vision. Their surroundings stilled as Sora ran down the path toward Kairi, fading away into darkness, until at last the waters they presided over had ceased movement entirely. 'You know now the consequences your actions have caused.

'_But what will you choose the second time around?_'

Riku only caught the tail end of the man's question—'second time around?'—for the waters before him suddenly splashed upwards, rebelling their two dark masters. Again, Riku could see what should have been eclipsed by the darkness, see the bone-crushing of the waves towering horrifyingly—but somehow, simultaneously beautifully—eerily overhead.

Riku found he was frozen in his place, watching the terrifying power descending upon him. He felt a flash of heat and Hyite's body was gone, an unbidden expression of luck wished to Riku in his wake.

And then the inky waters were upon him, pounding down in a roar so loud it would have woken Hades (and as it was, the girl outside the giant tree raised her head from her work to stare at the tree). Riku was flipped head-over-heels so many times he didn't know which way was up. But of course, he would have had no time to consider this, seeing as he was rather trying to allow himself a breath of air. He finally stopped, pausing in the tumultuous waters and allowing himself to float upward. He wasn't about to drown, dammit!

His head broke the surface with a gasp, immediately drawing in that blessed air. But another wave overswept Riku, the sea claiming the boy as its own once more. Riku, however, wasn't going to allow that to happen, and so he battled his way to the surface once more.

This continued for what seemed like an eternity, the frantic battle between boy and water, until the water finally receded, sending the boy tumbling forward, pitching forward to lie half-in and half-out of the water, face almost buried in what seemed to be earth.

Riku remained face-down in the ground, breathing shallowly, water dripping slowly off his silver hair, trickling down his collar. A breeze swept by, a cold, howling wind that sent a chill down his spine. He pulled his knees to his chest for a moment, rubbing his arms before climbing to his feet, looking around into the darkness to see what was there. 'Hyite?' he called cautiously. He didn't especially _like_ the man, but it seemed as though he was the only way out of this. 'Are you there?'

When there was no reply he sighed, shoulders and head drooping momentarily. Then he straightened, picking a direction at random and starting to walk.

_No, not that way!_

Riku swung around at the sound of the voice, looking for its owner. 'Hmm?'

_Over here!_

The sound of bells reached his ears, and with it, a giggle. 'Hereherehereherehere!' crowed a voice, quietly, as though far away. Riku's eyebrows furrowed—he'd never heard such a voice; so wanton, so flamboyant—but he followed the voice anyways, until he caught sight of something that made him stop dead in his tracks. In front of him was a pair of doors—a pair of grey doors he'd hoped he'd seen the last of.

The doors to Kingdom Hearts.

And worse still, the doors were open, although he saw figures beyond.

All thoughts forgotten, Riku sprinted ahead, leaping in graceful strides over the shadows that loitered all over the ground, quickly picking his way between them thanks to all the practise he'd gotten while trapped within Kingdom Hearts.

'Hurry!' cried two voices, voices he recognised. Sora's white glove appeared at the side of the door as he rested his hand on it, trying futilely to shove the door closed.

'I can't . . .' the younger boy whispered, leaning his head against the frame.

'Don't give up!' Riku encouraged. After all, he'd done it once before; he could surely close the doors again, couldn't he? A part of his mind was experiencing déjà vu, but he squashed the notion as Sora looked up suddenly, blue eyes lighting up at the sight of Riku.

He looked young. Riku noted how short the other boy was, how the baby hairs on his face glistened white as a light shone from an unknown source. He looked just as he did at fourteen.

_Then _. . . _this isn't real?_

'Come on, Sora!' Riku continued, battling that part of his mind that told him this was just a memory. He had to get Sora to close the doors, no matter whether it was reality or not! 'Together, we can do it!'

Yes. Together, they could close the doors—and together, they could either decimate the Heartless that preyed on the world, or the Heartless gnawing on his soul, destroying him from the inside out.

Sora stared into his eyes for a moment, perhaps spying Riku's resolve there before nodding once, throwing his weight against the door. And then he stopped, drawing back. 'Come on, Riku! Come out!' he pleaded, reaching out a hand, reaching past the barrier of the door to touch Riku's arm.

Riku recoiled as the fingers touched. Sora's eyes went wide with shock, and Riku looked away. He didn't know what to do. On one hand, he was being offered the choice to save himself from the torture he would go through inside Kingdom Hearts—but on the other hand, Riku knew that he would feel the guilt if he _didn't_ stay. Then again, he hadn't yet managed to quell that feeling of guilt, even _after_ remaining inside Kingdom Hearts.

A nearby shadow sunk its claws into his leg; Riku winced in pain, trying to shake it off. He couldn't. Another shadow joined him, and then another, until Riku finally pulled them all off, unable to stop a cry of pain every once in awhile, as a particularly jagged claw stuck in his skin, and hurled them away.

Riku shook his head as he turned back, then reached out to Sora, who still stood with his hand outstretched. He had made his decision. Taking Sora's hand into his own, Riku whispered, 'I can't.'

'What do you mean, you can't?' cried Sora. 'You've got to come back! Everyone . . . do you know what this will do to the islands? To your parents? To me, and even to _Kairi_?'

Riku winced. Yes, he knew. Ficre _knew_ he knew. 'I have something I have to do,' he croaked, throat suddenly try and tears burning at his eyes (but how could he cry? He couldn't show such weakness to Sora!) 'I don't expect you to understand, but it's . . . it's important, Sora. It's so important . . .'

Sora made as if to argue, but Riku looked away, waiting until the younger boy's rant had subsided before speaking again. 'I know. I know more than you could possibly believe about what's going to happen. But I also know that I've got to stay here.'

'But we don—' Sora started to protest. Riku merely smiled weakly.

'I know _you_ don't. But _I_ do. I blame myself. There are just so many things I should have done that I didn't—so many things I should have done differently. So many choices I should have reversed . . . Sora, even if I didn't feel like that, I would stay. And I don't expect you to understand it, or anyone else, for that matter. But trust me.'

Riku smiled once more, grabbing the outside of the door and pulling inwards. He pulled his hands back through as the gap finally became too small for him to help, and as Sora looked up at him one last time, he made sure he was smiling—albeit a feeble, weary smile.

It was so much harder the second time. Riku turned from the door, leaning against it and running a hand through his hair. This time, he knew just how everyone would react. He knew that Kairi would end up on Destiny Islands alone. He knew where Sora would go; he knew about Naminé. He knew about the choices in his future, but it almost made him smile.

Maybe this time he could make better decisions?

It was a thin ray of hope; one Riku clung to as he made his way from the door, into the hoards of Heartless. They surged toward him at first, attempting to attack his seemingly defenceless body, but got a surprise when the Wingblade ripped through them, rending shadow-flesh into uneven pieces. Riku danced a dance of death amongst them, a new, unbound vigour fuelling his frantic fighting. A shadow was set alight, thanks to a Fire spell that flamed from his blade, incinerating itself and several other nearby shadows. The light that resulted from this lit up the surrounding areas, although admittedly, it wasn't enough for Riku to see details. He paused in his fighting, summoning a shield around himself that caused all Heartless that touched it to disintegrate, and then he set off, walking as though in a trance from the rest of the still-hungering shadows.

It was a little under an hour later that found Riku working up a small sweat, due in part mostly to the unbearable humidity that now pressed down on him. His shirt was sticking to his skin; his hair hung about his face in damp, straggling clumps; the Wingblade had long since been put away. He wasn't quite sure when the air had begun changing, but now it made him uneasy. It was clear that he wasn't still in Kingdom Hearts.

And then he heard the voices. The first he'd heard since shutting the doors to Kingdom Hearts for the second time, they put a quicker pace into his step. 'They'll be killed!' cried one voice, somewhat helplessly.

'But what can we do?' another asked. 'I don't know.'

'We've got to do _something_,' pleaded Sora's voice. 'Anything!'

Just hearing the anxiety in the three's voices caused Riku to hasten his pace again, until he was almost running. The sounds of flames were beginning to reach his ears again, the sounds of flames cracking and snapping, consuming their fuel. Riku wasn't sure he wanted to know what the fuel was.

He ran through the woods, paying no heed to the branches that clawed at his face. One particularly thorny branch left several marks across his face, but he couldn't feel the pain as he raced onwards, finally breaking out into a clearing.

The fire that had consumed his house earlier was back; he could even see himself on the other side of the clearing for a moment, screaming in panic, 'Screams will be ended, my challenge to start. Courage to help me, go to the first part!' and then disappearing as darkness descended upon all of them.

Meanwhile, time was moving. The debris that had been so near his head earlier grashed to the ground; a loud rumbling signified that something was about to happen. Riku let out a shout, rushing forward, this time unhindered by hands from behind. There was a muted flash of light, and the Wingblade appeared in his hand, pointing at the wall before him. Riku looked at it for a moment, pondering his spells, but before he could do anything, the roof of the house collapsed—to a pair of screams from inside. He heard sobbing, sobbing he shouldn't have been able to hear, and then silence, a dark note on the piano drawn out til its extent.

Riku stopped in his tracks, staring forlornly at the house. . . . It was over. The roof had fallen, and was resting on the piano. What could he do? If he went inside . . . he would have to face up to what had been going on. Images flashed through his head quicker than Selphie could pounce upon a group of boys; images of what he might find inside.

Two twisted bodies, mouths open in silent screams. The flesh burnt from their skulls, which almost _shone_ a dark, charred black from amidst the rubble. The feeling of the screams that had filled the air, the agony that had preluded the deaths.

And the agony over the fact that they hadn't swam. For some reason, this scared Riku the most: the prospect of having to find Kairi's spirit and explain what had happened, to have to explain why he was still alive when she had died.

He imagined the looks on everyone's faces. They would despise him, he knew, because Kairi had died because of him. He couldn't do it. He couldn't take that again.

Riku shivered, looking at the house, looking at the flames that had done their work, which now burned merrily atop a mere four feet of rubble. He looked, scrying each nook carefully for the trickle of silver spirit that would alert him to Kairi's presence.

_I hate you, Riku_.

The voice wound slowly through Riku's head, a small breeze wafting around him slowly. _You let me die, Riku_._ All alone, inside the house_._ I went in because I thought you were there_._ I don't care about dying, if it means we'll be together_._ But_ _you left me for dead, didn't you! You left me to die in the house, and you're out here! How could you? I thought it was true, Riku_ . . . _but maybe Sora was right_._ Maybe my love would have been better received by him_ . . .

Riku shook his head, closing his eyes. 'No . . .' he tried to say, but the words were caught in his throat, though they were struggling to be let loose. 'No . . .'

His fists clenched as the winds picked up, bringing the scent of sharp cinders to his nose. He saw light dancing before his closed eyelids, but it didn't occur to him to look and see what it was. All that mattered was the accusations that were being thrown at him, those accusations of leaving Kairi to die alone. He wouldn't have done that, Riku tried to reason. He _knew_ that no matter what had happened, he wouldn't leave her! But her voice was so terribly cold, each word, each sentence like a knife across his skin, searing pain cutting through his heart. Riku turned, setting one foot on the muddy ground firmly, and then the next, determined to get as far away from the destruction as he could. He kept his eyes closed, as though if he didn't see where he was going, it wouldn't be leaving Kairi behind. Tears pricked at his eyelids, but he didn't even raise a hand to wipe them away, running as fast as he could from the accusations. From what had _all been_ _his fault_—

'Hey, Riku?'

Although the voice was quiet, Riku jumped, then immediately cursed for doing so, stopping short. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, opening his eyes to see unruly brown spikes dancing before his eyes, the owner of these spikes not quite tall enough to see eye-to-eye with the silver-haired boy. 'I know you don't want to do this any more than I do,' said Sora slowly, looking up at him with pain-filled eyes, 'but it's time to go inside.'

Riku drifted after Sora slowly, looking around—when had it become daytime? And high noon, at that?—at the destruction. It hadn't quite reached his clove, although many leaves on the far sides of the trees had been singed. However, where his house had been, there was merely a pile of blackened, charred firewood. The remains of his house (and again Riku wondered, had he gotten turned around whilst running?).

Riku stifled a cry, thrusting a gloved fist into his mouth to quiet the sound. It wouldn't have mattered even if he had, though; nearly everyone at the site was attempting to hold back his or her own tears. It would be considered unnatural if he _didn't_ seem so distraught.

He followed Sora to where two other men were waiting: one, Satri, young, though quite wise, and the other, Diseke, an old man, face and hands wrinkled with superfluous skin. 'I hate to have to do this to you boys,' said Diseke, voice hushed, 'but if we wait any longer, there won't be a chance. Is this—' and here he swallowed hard, as though he had to _force_ the words out (which, Riku thought, he probably had) '—is this Kairi?'

They stepped aside, pulling a wet cloth from the body. Riku heard Sora gasp beside him, and he himself was hard-put not to do anything. The girl was Kairi, and yet . . . it _wasn't_. It was Kairi in body, although Riku wasn't quite sure how he knew. The body was merely a darkened corpse, charred so badly Riku was almost afraid it would turn to ashes if he were to touch it.

'It's Kairi,' murmured both boys at once, looking up and meeting each other's eyes, then looking away despondently.

Diseke sighed, then nodded. 'I feared so.' He swept the cloth over the body once more, then looked up at them. 'And now the question arises: What shall we do? I can arrange for the Last Rites to be performed, and—'

'No.'

'Hmm?'

'No,' Riku repeated firmly, staring down at the floor as his hands balled into fists. It was _his_ fault that Kairi had died. He wasn't going to allow her to be disrespected in death. 'There's another option. The Via—' he swallowed hard; his throat didn't seem to want to form around the words, '—the Via ri Mori.'

Diseke shook his head, somehow looking down the bridge of his nose at Riku. 'My dear boy, I know how you felt for the lady,' he said, voice suddenly taking on a very parental tone, 'but I cannot allow you to do this.'

Riku kept his gaze level. 'Fine,' he replied simply. 'I can do the deed without your consent. Kairi does not deserve some mediocre Rite; she deserves to swim like the rest of us. I will swim the Via ri Mori, whether with the blessings of my people or not.'

Satri nodded approvingly. Sora, on the other hand, was looking conflicted. 'Riku . . .' he murmured. 'I can't let you do that. You're my _friend_! You have things to do in life. Let me . . .'

'_No_,' insisted Riku. 'I am going to do it. And I don't want to hear any arguments over it. Sora,' he continued, cutting off the younger boy, 'you have things to do in life still, same as I do. But your deeds are more important, whether or not you believe it. Perhaps . . . perhaps for me, the Via is a fitting end.' He smiled then, a smile full of regret, though it lacked the despair and loathing one would have thought it contain.

He didn't wait for an answer. He picked up Kairi's frail form—sheets and all—and strode out the door, through the small stretch of sand until he was waist deep into the ocean. And here he paused, pulling the sheet from her body again and setting it adrift, watching the thin material sailing across the water.

Riku held Kairi to his chest with one arm, cursing as he tried to manoeuvre with the weight of another body. He had only to make it to the undertow . . .

The sun beat down upon the back of his neck, but he continued on, finally settling into a stroke that cut through the water. He heard murmurs behind him, heard his name shouted several times, but he didn't look back. He merely continued with his strong stroke.

He never knew how long he swam—at times it felt like hours, and at times he felt like he could swim forever, that he had only just begun. All he knew was that before he was ready for it, he began to feel the undertow pulling at his body, threatening to pull him into its depths, pulling him to a watery grave, to join with the hundreds of other bodies below. He stopped swimming, instead hugging Kairi's body to him and burying his head into her neck. He would tread water here, until the last remains of his strength was gone and he sank below the surface for the last time, drowning. Both he _and_ the girl he loved would join the masses beneath the clear waters. It both consoled and frightened him.

Riku didn't look around; he kept his face hidden, finally allowing himself the sob that had been threatening to break out the entire time he'd been on the islands. He felt warm tears trickling over his cheekbones, a sharp contrast to the cold water; a hand raised momentarily to touch them in wonder. He hadn't cried in . . . well, in ages, though he might have felt the need to.

It was a long while before he finally lost his last reserves of strength. He still heard the cries from the shore, though he could no longer make out the words, which seemed to intensify as he slipped under once. And then he was beneath the waves again, in that remote world where words are silenced. He was falling, falling toward his newfound grave . . .

But no.

No; he could not die here. Riku felt his fall through the water slow. His body was uprighted as Kairi's weight dissipated, dissolving from his arms. He again touched down on a new surface easily, and his eyes opened to the sight of a wooden door—the twin of the one he'd entered. The doorknob was in the same place as before, and it was still slightly ajar—and creaking outwards as he stepped forwards, peering at the door. _What's going on?_ wondered Riku, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Riku quickened his pace, somehow _needing_ to reach the door . . .

The door burst open.

Light flooded Riku's vision; he felt himself being welcomed into its warm embrace. _What is the sin?_ asked a voice, a gentle, calming voice. It was that of a woman, and Riku almost felt as though he were speaking to Ficre herself.

He concentrated, but upon looking at his challenges, he could note his failure. _Inaudax_, he answered slowly. _I lack strength in myself_._ And in my decisions, as well_.

He felt someone smiling at him; he knew he was correct. _Very good_._ Continue in this manner, and you may very well find yourself changing in ways you never imagined_.

He closed his eyes, smiling to himself as the voice—and with it, the warmth—receded. There were several minutes of silence, during which Riku cleared his mind, attempting to purge it of all that had just occurred. And when this was done, he opened his eyes again, finding himself in that same circle of doors.

Now, he did not hesitate. He strode directly to the door to the left of his first choice, pausing only to admire the small sword etched into the door he'd entered prior.

The wooden door swung shut behind him.

**3 **— .c.o.w.a.r.d.i.c.e. — **3**


End file.
